


The Aftermath Of Heroism

by singing_to_empty_caves



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Gen, Link needs a hug, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singing_to_empty_caves/pseuds/singing_to_empty_caves
Summary: The hero's story is over, but he's still alive, and there's no solace in living without purpose.





	The Aftermath Of Heroism

He sat straight up in the night, screaming with the exact consistency of the sticky blood he'd come to dread-thick and laced with iron, what used to be his strong will.

His entire body shook with terrifying shivers. His once steady and toned arm reached shakily for the bottle of water at his bedside, grasping it and dragging it towards his other arm. His fingers fumbled at the cork, finally tugging it free and choosing to ignore that it subsequently fell from his grasp and rolled across the floor and out of his reach. He lifted the bottle and began to drink, indifferent to the streams of the liquid running down his face. Long past the assistance of such a simple remedy, his raw throat still screamed, clawing at the skin that held it captive in his neck. 

Even this was dulled by the stabbing pains of every muscle in his body protesting their continued existence. Tired and worn, they begged for freedom from the cycle of day and night, never resting as he subjected them to his fitful nightmares. No calm existed in his world, no reprieve for exhaustion, for pain, for the hope he'd lost so long ago.

And yet, somehow, he was able to find the strength to stand. Shaking legs, barely balanced on feet, carried the tired body away to the door. Slowly, skeletal fingers wrapped around leather straps and hefted a choice few belongings over his shoulders, the weight that used to feel so natural now seeming to crush his spine.

He knew, of course, that the innkeeper had heard his nightmarish shrieks. No living soul could have ignored such sounds of torment. This was why he gathered his things, escaped in the night. To exist this way, in itself, made panic into routine. But to be confronted? In the face of what he already knew and had accepted, he would collapse.

It was a new moon. No strength was offered for the beast within, no solace found in its feral ways. No, he was on his own; he had lost the synchronization that had bound him to the spirit guarding his soul. Utterly alone, his exposed tangle of creation howled a lament at the stars which remained unheard by any ears but the pale, pointed, pierced pair resting on the head of that soul's vessel.

Could anyone have dreamed the things he dreamed? Could anyone see through the twisted lens of his mind's eye? He assumed their indifference; after all, even the legions of men trained for years to be the first, the last, and the strongest protection for the dear monarch of the kingdom in which he stood had discarded the notion of nobility. What was to be expected of mere peasants?

This young man, this young hero, had never known the secret designs of destiny. He merely acted on what he was told. The freedom of knowledge had descended upon him as a leaf gliding on a gentle breeze, but the moment it touched him the wind grew wild. Trapped in the cyclone created by a thousand generations of unadulterated hatred, he had been torn to shreds and left nothing but a shell. All of what he had assumed he was had shifted...

Three predestined lives, and one of them a beast who would not loose his bonds with the mortal world. For the existence of the dark-hearted tyrant, his life had been set on the same course all along. His friendships, love and heartbreak, they were all inconsequential.

His name was Link. He was nothing more than a broken tool.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I wrote this a long time ago and decided to post it now. Hope you liked it!  
> Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
